


Papa

by DraziQueen



Series: The Creature's Daughter [2]
Category: Frankenstein - Mary Shelley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:54:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27515665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DraziQueen/pseuds/DraziQueen
Summary: How can someone who doesn't even know who he is give a small child everything she needs?
Series: The Creature's Daughter [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1933816
Comments: 8
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I kind of wanted to write Devil's Deliverance Sonata as a complete story but I'm currently busy with uni work, trying to write other stories and trying improve my drawing skills. Instead, I've opted to make it a series of short stories. I have so many really sweet moments planned between these two characters and there will be other original characters added later on in the series. I've got a page of bullet pointed notes filled with ideas.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this story.

As the days passed, I realized I had given no thought to how Holly could survive in the wilderness. I was resilient enough to survive anything but I was stronger than most humans, Holly was not like me. Sometimes I watched her playing, she appeared content, the sunlight illuminating her iris until it shone like gold and her cheeks and the tip of her nose were pink as the sunset.  
I had not thought ahead when I first saw her, lying there in the hollow at the base of a tree. All I knew was she needed someone and instinct took over but now, I thought about what I could give her?  
My coat was in rags and my shirt had been altered to make a little skirt and top for her but it wasn't enough. I had no way to brush her hair either and it was growing past her shoulders and becoming knotted despite my attempts to keep it in order.  
She toddled round a barefooted forest spirit only she was human and could not live like this forever. I began to teach her to speak but it was French, not the native language of this land.  
It chanced that once day, I heard the voices of two travellers passing by, their language was unfamiliar but I understood that they were heading to Lyon in France. I took Holly, who by then was asleep, and set off, following their trail.  
I had vaguest ghost of a plan forming in my mind as I took the steps. I kept parallel with them, my sensitive hearing giving me the advantage when it came to travelling. We settled in a corpse of trees outside a small town. I suspect the travellers found lodging for the night.  
We waited until the town was asleep and under the blanket of night, I stole into the town, with Holly held close in case we had to run.  
It had been some years since I entered a town and even though it was deserted, I feared it but I had to be strong for Holly. I hoped she would sleep through it but my movements awoke her. I considered leaving her but I dare not let her out of my sight.  
"We have to be very quiet," I told her, putting my finger to my lips and shushing her.  
Holly tried to copy me but the sound came out in a long hiss that made both of us laugh.  
The town was larger than I anticipated, hardly a sprawling metropolis but there were shops, of course closed at this hour. Little alleyways split from them like tunnels of an immense warren. On occasion people passed us and I slunk to the edge with my back against the grimey wall and my feet in the gutter.  
Music sprawled from a nearby street, clashing with the sound of voices and laughter.  
I suppose many would find the presence of other people comforting but it brought me nothing but fear. My body still ached from the blows Felix gave me, as though a noose was tightening around my neck. The mud-coated cobbles beneath my feet seemed to fall away and I was lying there again, letting blow after blow rain down upon my skin.  
Holly tugging at my hair brought me back.  
"Holly," I whispered. My eyes were damp.  
She gestured at the direction of the music, her tiny hand opening and closing as though she could grab each note.  
"No, Holly berry, not today."  
I needed to get out of that town. I don't even know how I expected to find useful things for us here. I lifted her up so she rested her head on my shoulder. Her hand tangled in my hair, anchoring me to the task at hand.  
I pressed on, steering away from the music and voices, taking gigantic strides through the vacant parts of town. I bolted across an open square, praying no one would see me. The streets seemed endless like a maze, fortunately almost devoid of people.  
We reached a part of town where the cobbled streets were clean and lined by pristine pavements in front of rows of large houses with spacious windows, their glass black behind opulent curtains. Holly peered out from my arms, her lips parted as she watched these grand houses go by.  
Like her, I found myself wondering what it must be like to live in a house as grand as these ones. They were a far cry from the little cottage and even further than the corse fare we were used to. A gentle breeze moved a line of clothes so they sounded like the wings of a bird. The sound came from the corner where, enclosed by a fence decorated with intricate patterns, there stood a garden. I drew closer, resting my hand on one of the gate’s iron leaves.  
A long coat seemed to shimmer in the gentle breeze, black with rows of buttons that might have been real silver. I longed for a coat such as this, my hair tied back, maybe decorated with a bow like one of the gentlemen I read about in books. I spoke with eloquence, I could make my tones soft and pleasing to the ear but as soon as they saw my towering form, or my marred face they would recoil. That same bitterness for my creator arose in my breast. I knew his name but nothing about his visage or mannerisms. No doubt he was well educated, pampered, raised with all the love and affection a person could need while Holly and I only had each other against an uncompassionate world.  
I would have turned away had it not been for the tiny flutter of green next to it. A tiny dress undulated in the wind, almost the right size for Holly.  
This was what I came for yet I found myself hesitating. Stealing was wrong but stealing from a child was worse. Beside it was another dress but in pink, the silken fabric shone in the moonlight. The clothes on the line varied from simple cotton to fine satin, mostly the latter. The house towered floors above us, the windows black with drawn curtains reflecting the void of night. The family appeared to have money and I was sure they could afford to buy a new one. Stealing was wrong but Holly was in greater need. I set her on the ground and vaulted over the fence plucking the dresses deftly from the line and returned to Holly. Then I dashed through the town meaning to get away before I was caught.  
I continued, taking huge strides even when the town lay in the distance. I did not relish my actions but seeing Holly's eyes sparkle as she clutched at the dresses made me sure that I had done the right thing in difficult circumstances.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm afraid this is a short one but I've nearly finished chapter 3.

Strands of sunlight illuminated the rooftops of the town which now lay in the distance, the windows and doorways obscured in shadows the sunlight couldn't reach. Holly had fallen asleep but she still clutched at the dresses. I pulled my coat round her to guard against the light and continued on our journey.  
I pressed on and on through the countryside trying to discern a route from brief glimpses of road signs from a distance. I could not travel on the roads for fear of being seen but Holly and I found woods for cover and deserted grasslands suited our purpose.  
On the way, I would speak to her. "We are going to France," I would tell her. The word probably meant little to one so young but she still listened, sucking her thumb, her brown eyes holding me in her curious gaze.  
I would tell her stories from the books I read, I would sometimes weave in the narratives of the cottagers whom I once held dear. I suppose I felt it important to teach Holly about the injustices of the world so as to prepare her should she encounter them. I would protect her as far as I could but my own experiences had taught me that life does not always go to plan so I knew I had to be ready for harm to come to both of us.  
My mind still lingered on the plans to travel to South America away from all humanity but I knew I could not do that, Holly did not deserve isolation but I knew we could not be safe among people so I chose to live in the wilderness but not too far from a settlement so perhaps we can get what we need. Maybe I could offer my services to a farmer, surely my prodigious strength could overcome his fear of my face. Maybe he would even have children Holly could play with.  
Or maybe I was letting myself fall prey to fantasy again.  
I hoped for a family before but it was not to be.  
Holly’s tiny fingers entwined in my hair and she pulled at it as though it was the string of a puppet. Usually this would bring me joy but a horrible thought snuck into my mind. Her tiny hand rested on my finger, a white flower on a rotting autumn leaf. People hated me, could that hatred spread like a virus, contaminating anything close?  
“No!” I spoke the word out loud, startling Holly who only grasped at me. “No,” I whispered to banish the thought from my mind.  
She would have died without me. She would have died. I am the reason she is alive and I am going to make sure we have a good home together.


	3. Chapter 3

Due to my endurance, we made rapid progress on our journey. At times I would bound across the rough terrain, doubtless inspiring legends of a demon while I held Holly close to me and she laughed as the wind danced through our hair.  
I stopped at the road sign them I read the word that brought back an ocean of tumultuous feelings.  
Geneva.  
Victor Frankenstein's hometown. Perhaps he was even there now. After all, I believe he had been at the university for some years, surely he had returned home to his family.  
Family.  
I reached up, tracing the letters on the lichen stained sign with the tips of my fingers. He meant to make me beautiful but the skin was thin, like a layer of scum on the surface of a putrid pond and indented with lines making it appear withered. Every vein could be seen, the outline of each muscle, each tendon visible and flexing with each tiny movement. Beautiful. How could anyone look at me and feel anything but terror and disgust? I brought my hand to my sunken cheek and felt the ridges of muscles like a parasite under my skin.  
The sound of people trudging along the road snapped me out of my thoughts and I dashed for the safety of the trees. I leaned against the trunk of an oak tree so ancient it had widened to the point that I was hidden. I should have receded further into the forest so Holly and I could continue our journey but something kept my feet in the same place as though the undergrowth tied me to the ground.  
The travellers soon came into view round a corner. The man pulled a solid cart behind him laden with wood for the fire. The boy must have only been a few years older then Holly but even he carried a small quantity of firewood. It was wrapped into a bundle and held in such a way that he resembled a mother cradling her child.  
They spoke little but seemed content with each other’s company. The boy’s gaze surveyed his surroundings taking in every branch or rock as though they were words on a page.  
“Papa?”  
“Yes?”  
“Did God make everything?” he asked.  
The man’s face wrinkled into a smile. “He certainly did.”  
I couldn’t help releasing a bitter chuckle at this.  
“Does that mean everything has a soul?”  
“Only people.”  
“What about animals, papa?”  
The man pulled the cart to the edge of the path. “That, I couldn’t tell you,” he replied, sitting down on a large rock by the side of the road. “I think it’s time for lunch.”  
Holly squirmed in my arms. “Shhh,” I whispered, rocking her from side to side however this did not work to calm her down and on a quiet afternoon like this sound was sure to carry. I dashed further into the forest, quick as I could. I’m sure they must have seen movement but hopefully they would assume it's just an animal of some sort.  
I walked on for a few moments but Holly started to squirm again so I set her down on the ground. She reached up her short arm so I had to bend over considerably far to even hold her hand. She giggled as she took a few steps, swinging from my arms.  
“Well done, Holly berry,” I whispered as I always did when she walked.  
She giggled appreciatively and started to try to walk faster.  
After a few moments my back started to ache and I was forced to pick her up but to stop her from complaining, I placed her on my shoulder and her flower like hands brushed at the branches and leaves on the trees.  
The word on the sign still ran through my mind as well as the boy’s question about a soul. If I was nothing more than an abominable mix of dead parts pieced together into the shape of a man, did I have a soul? Was I like a machine capable of thought, perhaps the thoughts of those who inhabited this body before me?  
Geneva was not far away and Frankenstein was sure to return if I waited long enough. I wanted to ask him if he created me with a soul? Could he endow me with one? Why create a monster but give it the ability to feel? Why leave me alone?  
Every person whom I had encountered hurt me in some way.  
“Papa?”  
Except one. My lips parted, I wanted to say something to her but that word rendered me speechless and my heart pounded. The muscles in my arm tightened until they were like stones. That word ran through my mind obliterating all thought. I froze for a few moments until the word seemed to dissolve into questions. How does one be a father? How can one who has no prospect in life be a father?  
I sank down, leaning against a tree. Holly sucked on her hand as she watched me, her forehead creased. I couldn’t be a father, I was meant to protect her yet I was weeping though I was a child myself.  
Then I felt a little hand touch my cheek. “Papa?” she whispered, almost crying herself.  
She was only a baby yet she was trying to comfort me. I pulled her closer and her hair brushed against my cheek, her hand rested on the back of my neck, burrowing beneath my hair.  
“I love you,” I whispered to her. “You are so precious to me.”  
"Papa," she murmured into my hair.  
That singular word calmed my racing heart like a balm. Amongst the multitude of my questions about my existence I had one answer.  
I was a father and that was all that mattered.


End file.
